The Odd Nicknames Club
by americanbread
Summary: A story of five kids: The New Kid, The Neighbor, The Reluctant One, The Best Friend, and The Weird One. The huge tree house (or maybe some parental forces) was all it took to bring them together. But as they grow up, will it be enough to bring them back?
1. The Beginning: Part 1

**I'm trying out something different this time. Enjoy :))**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own MR.**

* * *

_**Martin**_

It all started out when the new kid moved in. It always starts out with the new kid.

In this case, I was the new kid. Not that I was totally new to the area; I had been here once or twice to visit relatives, although they were a block or two down. The neighbors might have looked familiar, but they were still just faces to me in the meantime.

Being the new kid when you're seven is easy enough. You're eager to go out, to get dirty, to interact, and to do whatever because you're seven. So I was eager to go out, to get dirty, and to do whatever I want. Maybe right after I put all the boxes in their respective rooms, but still.

The house we moved in was pretty old on the outside, but you wouldn't have thought of that once you got in. Everything inside was so pristine, exactly how it looked when we first came to have a look around for possible residence. The best part though, and the sole reason that we immediately took the house, was the tree house in the backyard. Sure, it was your average tree house, but it was huge. Huge as in _huge_. Probably as big as the master's bedroom, though no bigger than that. As my sister would say, it's a friend magnet.

The tree house was also one of the reasons this started. You can't have a tree house that big and not want to share it. Right after we had most of the basics assembled and put away in our house, my mother told me that the two of us should get a good look at it again, for "design inspiration" and stuff.

"All this needs is a huge, low table, a lot of throw pillows, and maybe a cooler, and _voila_, a perfectly decent clubhouse." My mother said, stepping into the middle and spreading her arms out. "Though I definitely wouldn't stop at that."

"It also needs people." I pointed out.

"It sure does." She nodded in agreement. "Why don't you start a club?"

"A club?" The seven- year- old me brightened up in excitement. I already had a gazillion ideas going through my head, even if I couldn't get hold of even one. I could imagine meetings with a gavel, cool membership cards, maybe a shirt, club- y stuff like that. Anything but the idea of getting members, which could take a long time though I had no clue about that since I was seven.

"With your awesome tree house, you'll have enough friends to start a club." My mother assured me. "Now let's go down, because I think I heard the doorbell."

I was still excited about the idea of starting a club as we got down and went inside the house. The doorbell was actually ringing- my mother guessed it was neighbors coming out to greet us. She was right; a mother and her daughter, both with rich mocha- colored skin, were at the door, holding pie and a plate of cookies respectively. An all- American friendly neighbor greeting.

That girl was the first member of our club.

* * *

_**Monique**_

My parents pretty much get awards like Most Outgoing, Most Friendly, maybe even Mr. and Mrs. Congeniality. But as social as they were, it was a mystery their only child was a shy and introverted kid. Later on, I found out the answer via Biology: Mendel's postulate of dominance and recessiveness. But enough about that; that's not what I'm supposed to talk about right now.

Since my mom and dad were extremely welcoming, they were the first to know about our new neighbors. My mom baked a pie and my father tried to help her with cookies; in reality though, he ended up having a tickle fight versus me on who got to lick the spoon. After more than an hour's worth of watching dough turn golden brown, my mother straightened her appearance and mine, and we both set out across the street to where our new neighbors lived.

A blonde, curly- haired woman opened the door, accompanied by a boy younger than me. "Good afternoon." She greeted with a warm smile.

My mother smiled back in response, and gently prodded me with her elbow, a sign that I should smile too. "Hi, we're the Wilsons, and we live just across the street. I'm Natalie, and this is my daughter, Monique."

The blonde woman shook hands with my mother and then smiled at me. "Well, we're the Johnstons. This is my son Martin- he's seven- and my name is Lisa. Come in."

We entered the house, with Mrs. Johnston thanking us for the pie and the cookies and offering my mother some tea. She then put the cookies into a Ziploc bag and told Martin that he should show me the tree house.

"A tree house?" I asked as we headed towards the back yard. "The last time I went here they didn't have one. It must be really new." Even from the back door, the tree house was obviously huge. Huge as in _huge_. And when we got inside, I could see that all it needed was a bunch of cool furniture.

"I'm Martin." He said, waving, and then opened the bag of cookies. "Want one?"

"I'm Monique. And thanks." I replied, and took one from the bag. "But you should try one first before I take a bite."

He did, and he had that obviously overly- satisfied face that everyone has whenever they try out one of mom's cookies. "They're great!" He exclaimed a few crumbs falling out of his mouth.

I smiled and took a bite from my own cookie. It's sort of a requirement for people who socialize well to also have excellent cooking skills. Even if I couldn't socialize as well as my parents did, at ten I was only a few baby steps away from cooking the most awesome batch of cookies.

Martin sat down in the middle of the tree house, the bag of cookies on his lap. "My mom told me I should start a club."

"A club? That's cool." I said, sitting down beside him. "So what's your club's name?"

"I don't know yet. You want to join?"

"Sure. Maybe I could help you in naming the club?"

He smiled, showing perfectly chocolate- chip- stained teeth. "Cool."

"We need something different, something awesome." I said, taking another bite and tilting my head in thought. "Like everyone should have a cool nickname or something."

"That's it! We should have a club where everyone has cool nicknames. Or like, weird nicknames."

Although the name wasn't official yet, The Odd Nicknames Club was definitely born.

* * *

_**Maria**_

"Mom, I am not joining some kid's club. I'm thir_teen_. Emphasis on the 'teen' over there. It means I'm a teenager."

My mother crossed her arms at my defiant response. "Maria, your Aunt Lisa moved in yesterday and you didn't even come over in the afternoon to say hi. And you didn't even try to bond with Martin when we went there for dinner last night."

"Well I'm sorry for being busy and tired. If it's what you want, I'll go there first thing tomorrow morning and play whatever it is Martin likes to play nowadays. But no way will I be joining a _kid's club_, I'm-"

"Too mature for that, I know." My mother finished. "But can you at least pretend to be interested? If his club gets a lot of members his age then sooner or later he won't even notice you're there."

As convincing as that response was, I was still making a stand with my decision. I crossed my arms the same way as hers, and she immediately understood the unwritten message.

"Tell you what, Max; during the days that you go to Martin's club, you'll get out of doing your chores. Remember, I will find out if you're lying or not."

"I will consider that offer."

A little background: My mother's sister, Aunt Lisa, had gotten a divorce with her husband, and during the court session it was agreed that she got custody of Martin while his sister was with his dad. They moved all the way here, for some familiarity and non- monetary support (apparently Aunt Lisa's lawyer was so good that her ex-husband had to pay a lot). My mom is supportive, but most times she's only tolerant; she had always hated her former in- law, and her sister for marrying him in the first place. But Martin? Too damn adorable; plus, he's only seven.

I love my mother, even if it wasn't obvious during that argument. She knew that I hated being treated like a kid. But like every other concerned white- picket- fence mother, she was used to those kind of arguments that regarded me and the fact that I was closer to puberty than she remembered. She called it, of course, a "phase".

I never did remember how I used to decide back then. Even if I already considered myself an adult, it wasn't always about the pros and cons. But in the end I gave up and decided that a couple of hours of trying to be invisible could possibly be better than my chores, which usually related to some form of cleaning with soap and water. If I was lucky, it was the dishes; if I wasn't, it was the animal cages at the clinic she worked at.

"I will go, though I am taking your word that I'll be invisible in no time. I have one condition though."

"I'll consider that."

"You have to convince James to come with me." I answered. James was my best friend, and though we still weren't what people would say "joined at the hip", they had a much worse comment which was that "we would be married someday". Not the most accurate prediction.

In the end? Not being invisible in that club somewhat turned out to be a good thing.

Somewhat.

* * *

_**James**_

"Thanks a lot for dragging me into this." I dryly told Maria, my best friend, as we trudged up to her aunt's house.

"I am going to ignore that sarcasm and instead convince you that we are going to have fun." She replied in an equally dry manner. "Besides, my mom forced me into this and no way am I going to suffer alone."

"You could've just asked me to help you sneak out."

"First of all, according to my aunt the club is going to 'hang out' in their tree house. And second of all, both my aunt and my mother have the talent of keeping an eye on people, which they aim at me most of the time. So that's not going to happen."

"What's the club thing about anyway? And wouldn't you be more noticed if there was the two of us?"

"I don't even know if there's a chance of me not being noticed."

While a part of me was sort of pissed at having to join her in whatever kids' club we were going to be in, Maria was my best friend and she knew she owed me one. A thing about having a long- time best friend of the opposite gender: you get insight of the aforementioned opposite gender. Even if Maria wasn't what you would call extremely feminine, she knew more about girls than I ever would. And she also had much knowledge about your average guy, thanks to me. The bad part about that is that people are convinced the two of you were going to get married someday. I would have to get past the friendzone first. Also, I would have to like Maria in the first place. She was a girl and often acted like one, but don't let the name fool you. Like I said, she wasn't what you would call extremely feminine.

We had finally gotten to her aunt's house, and though the exterior looked like it was about to crumble, the interior said anything but. At the backyard, a small blonde boy, who Maria told me was her cousin, was playing with a girl slightly older than him. The humungous tree house was pretty hard to miss, and I had to admit that it sort of looked awesome.

"Thanks for coming by, Maria. I thought Valencia wouldn't be able to convince you."

She shrugged in reply. "Anything for Martin. I see he's made a new friend."

"Yeah, she lives just down the street."

"The Wilsons?" I asked, and her aunt nodded in reply. "Of course. The first friend is always the most outgoing one."

Looking back on the friendship between Maria and me, I realized that I didn't remember who met who first and who made the first move. All I remember was a figurative explosion, and then we were best friends just like that. Neither of us was more outgoing than the other.

Anyway, soon after I realized that there were more important things to look back on than how the two of us became best friends.

* * *

_**Nick**_

A random factoid about me: I like being alone. Being alone wouldn't necessarily mean being isolated from people, but I aimed more for a definition of not having people bug me as I bask in the silence and they do whatever they want. I may have been in a crowded room or in a large crowd, but as long as no one intentionally got my attention, I was pretty alone. And I liked it that way.

That random factoid was also the reason why I did not want to join a club. And it being a kids' club made it so much worse on so many levels. It combined two of the things I hated: socializing too much especially when you're not in the mood, and being treated like a kid.

While I was usually considered as an extreme introvert, my parents were pretty normal by standard. True, their socializing skills were nothing compared to those of the Wilsons, but they were still out there. My mother, in fact, was part of a book club created by none other than Mrs. Wilson. And when Mrs. Wilson told them how her daughter Monique had started a club with their new neighbors, my mother decided it was high time I got a little exposure.

"Oh come on, Nick." My mother pleaded. "You should really try and make a couple of friends. Or at least make friends that you'd want to bring home to hang out with."

"Mom, if I ever wanted to get friends to bring home, I would choose ones my own age." I told her. A thirteen-year-old with friends ranging from ages six to ten basically screamed "desperate".

The thing was, I did have what people would typically consider as friends: there were people from class that I would greet if I felt like it and vice versa. We would have the occasional chat about school and outside social gatherings that our mothers would force us to attend, but it wasn't like I took the time to directly share my personal life with them, and it was the same thing with them. I don't remember if it was my parents or the guidance counselor or the inspirational hobo downtown, but I remember being told that you'll know that a person is your best friend if you want to share a story with that person first before anyone else.

Whoever said that was right in a way.

I ended up losing the fight and had to trudge up to the new kid's place. Then I still had to go to the backyard and make the climb of shame to the tree house. Thankfully, I wasn't interrupting anything.

"Are you Nick?" A small blonde boy, who appeared to be the youngest, asked. I nodded in reply and sat in my own corner of the tree house.

The Wilsons' daughter, who was slightly older than him, clapped her hand once in satisfaction. "Great, now we can start." She said enthusiastically.

Thankfully, I wasn't the only reluctant one.

* * *

_**Third Person POV**_

Six kids, with their ages ranging from seven to thirteen, gathered at the low table at the middle of the clubhouse. Two of them had excited grins on their faces, the other two were busy talking about something that they only had knowledge of, and the last one stared off into the distance with a very bored expression, and perhaps thoughts of escape that unbeknownst to him, were the very same thoughts the second couple had.

"I'm Martin." The small blonde boy started with an awkward wave. "Thanks for joining my club."

The eldest girl, who was also his cousin, stopped chatting with her companion and feigned enthusiasm. "What's your club called?"

Martin grinned at the other girl, the mocha- skinned one, who also grinned back. "This is _The Odd Nicknames Club_." She announced.

The eldest girl's friend played along with her. "So what are we going to do?"

"First of all, we have to introduce ourselves, like say our name and something interesting about ourselves." She replied, with a hint of shyness in her enthusiasm. "I'm Monique, and even though I'm a Wilson, I'm not very good at talking to people like my parents."

"I'm Martin, and I think the best things ever are the fireworks displays during the Fourth of July. Especially if you're the ones making them explode."

"I'm Maria," The eldest girl said, "and I'm a quarter Spanish, not exactly obvious which is why the name is already weird."

Maria's friend went next. "I'm James," he said, "and I am not a ginger. My hair is _strawberry blond_. Or pale blond, whichever of the two you want. But not ginger."

"Can I just leave?" The last boy, who was James' and Maria's age asked. James nudged him in a half- angry manner.

"Dude, the kid's seven. _Seven_. Can you just play along for now?" James whispered.

With a reluctant sigh and a realization on how rude he had been, he spoke up. "I'm Nick," he said, "and I'm sorry for being rude."

Martin smiled at him in reply. "That's okay."

Monique took the cardboard box at the middle of the table and poured out its contents. Five 'HELLO, MY NAME IS' sticker labels that had been stuck to cardboard and cut appeared along with one permanent marker.

"So for us to be called _The Odd Nicknames Club_, we need odd nicknames. Everyone has to write an odd nickname, for anyone here, on the name tags." She said, and after writing a name on her own card, passed the marker around for everyone to do the same. Then she asked all of them to put the cards in the box.

"We only have one rule." Martin said as he shook the box. "Whatever name you pick out, you'll stick with it forever. Or else you'll get kicked out and the gods of nicknames will put curses on you."

"Reasonable enough." James spoke up.

"Let us all bow our heads in silence to praise the gods of nicknames." Martin said, and when he felt that everyone had bowed their heads long enough, raised his, and said, "Let's start picking!"

* * *

**What do you think? I had to do all the first person POV's like everyone was looking back or something because I still haven't mastered the skill of completely thinking like a seven year old.**

**(It's obvious that you guys know the nicknames, but the question is, DO YOU KNOW THE ORIGIN? I'm hoping for some unidentifiable plot twists this time. Hint: I already have some of them there.)**

**Anyway, I'm sort of late with starting, because I waited for the school year to end. Hopefully I'll be pretty active this summer.**

**See you in an indefinite amount of time =D**


	2. The Beginning: Part 2

**Hello, people of the internet, wherever you people are. Anyway, I already have a cover, and if you want to see the actual-size version, here's a link: i-imgur-com/8zxkhZJ-jpg**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own MR.**

* * *

_**Maria**_

"Let's start picking!"

At that moment, the rest of us raised our heads and turned our attention to the slightly dreaded cardboard box. At least it was for James, Nick, and me. I wasn't so sure what Monique had in her head at that moment, but it was obvious that Martin had genuine enthusiasm on his face, since he was just a seven- year- old kid with a weird club after all.

Martin pointed his finger at me. "You pick first." He announced.

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you put your card in last."

Being, in my own words, too mature for clubs such as this one, I didn't even bat an eye at the "use your nickname forever or else a curse will be placed upon you" part. Still, in a way I knew there was no escape from the horror of getting a random nickname: if I didn't play along, my mom would find out and then she would start calling me by whatever hideous nickname I would get until it spread like an infection. I didn't exactly trust anyone in that tree house to give me a decent nickname: Martin and James were both odd and crazy in their own ways, Monique would be going along, and Nick was a total stranger to me.

"Maria?" Nudge said, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "I could go first if you want."

I shook my head. "No, I'm cool with it." I said, putting my hand in the box and shuffling the cards. There were only five cards, but I was somehow hoping mixing it up would lessen my chances of getting an extremely odd nickname. And then I extracted one, though I was obviously not eager to find out my new moniker.

"What did you get?" Nudge asked again.

I blinked, not exactly sure if I picked the oddest or the most normal nickname out of the five. Probably the most normal, based on how I described the other members. "Max." I said, reading aloud.

"I wrote that." Martin said, grinning eagerly.

"Who is 'Max' supposed to be for?" I asked.

"For me." He said. "Because it's a cool super villain name."

Iggy looked in my direction, his eyes saying that there was no way he was going to live this moment down. "But that's not an odd nickname." I said.

"Now it is." The quiet kid, Nick, spoke up. And because he had a point and everyone seemed to sense it, I let go of my almost- argument. Years after that, Martin told me that he had been deciding between 'Max' and 'Captain Terror'. So while it seemed unfortunate back then, it was actually a good thing.

"I pick next." Martin said, his level of eagerness still the same as before. He didn't even stop for a moment to shuffle the cards and his hand was out after a couple of seconds. "My name is… The Gasman! I like it."

"Who wrote that?" Monique asked.

"I did." Nick said. "And it actually was for him, because he likes explosions and that stuff."

"Which kind?" James muttered under his breath. We watched as Nick picked his card.

"Mine says Fang." He said, though there was no indication whether he was appalled or enraged or something.

"That's from me." Monique said with a shy smile. "I actually wrote it for any of the guys, because Fang sounds like this interesting and mysterious and cool nickname." She added, and picked a card out of the box. There were only two names left: the one I wrote, and the one James wrote.

"Nudge." She read aloud. "It's cute."

"That's mine." James said. "It was supposed to be for Nick, because a while ago I had to nudge him to get him to speak up."

Naturally, James picked the one I wrote. "Iggy. You wrote this Maria, didn't you? What does 'Iggy' mean, anyway?"

"I did. That was for Nick. 'Iggy' is supposed to be internet slang for 'ignore', which is what Nick is doing."

"I was about to be named after internet slang?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It was supposed to be ironic." I was going to add something else, but then Monique clapped her hands to get our attention.

"Let's introduce ourselves again," she said. "I'm Nudge."

"I'm The Gasman."

"I'm Max." I said, trying my best to be as enthusiastic as the previous two.

"I'm Iggy."

"I'm Fang." Nick added after a few moments, right before James was about to nudge him again.

"So what next?" James asked.

"We'll use our nicknames, as per club rules, and we should at least hang out and be friends with each other." Monique said.

"We'll do all sorts of stuff." Martin added. "But for now, _Nudge_'s mom made cookies."

* * *

_**Martin**_

After the very first meeting of The Odd Nicknames Club, where we ate cookies and swore that we would be using our nicknames from that day on, Nick made a not- too- obvious dash for the door, while Nudge stayed a bit before leaving, because the Wilsons probably had some guests to attend to. Maria, being family, stayed behind and helped my mom clean up. And because she went here with James- who was now Iggy- he decided to stay awhile and wait so that they could leave together.

That was pretty much my first impression of James/ Iggy: he sure looked like he had a crush on Maria. But then again, I was still seven and not aware of mature boy- girl friendships along with the wonders of the friend zone.

"Hi." I said, waving goofily, which is what I usually did (and still do) whenever I make attempts to break awkward silences.

He just smiled in reply, and moved closer so that the tree house didn't feel too big. "You wanna hang out?"

I nodded, and to start, I said. "Maria has a boy's name."

"A boy's name that we will from this day forward use for either endearment or as a tool for public humiliation. Though knowing her, the latter wouldn't be that possible."

And there went my second impression of James/ Iggy: being a mere seven year old both figuratively and literally looking up at the aforementioned thirteen- year- old strawberry blond (which I discovered throughout the years as a fact he likes to point out a lot), it felt like he was using all these long and complicated words, even if there was a simpler way of saying them. It was like he was making it dramatic.

Later on, he told me exactly that.

"Anyway," James/ Iggy went on. "I've come across some people who have names inappropriate for their gender. In fact, I have an uncle named Jocelyn."

"But he's really a boy?" I asked in utter fascination. After all, it's not everyday you hear things like that.

He nodded. "But my parents and other aunts and uncles use a nickname instead."

Because I didn't have anything as fascinating as that random tidbit, and moreover because I was a very odd and crazy (but in my own way) seven- year- old, I countered with, "I like explosions and fireworks."

He nodded again, this time in agreement. "It's awesome how they're so bright and huge and colorful."

"On my mom's next birthday, I want to create this huge firework that'll spell out her name."

"That's a great idea." He said. "I can help you out if you want."

"You would?" I asked, though I didn't have space for wondering why a very much aware thirteen- your- old would help an innocent seven- year- old make explosives and use them.

"I would." He replied. "I'm good at mixing stuff up."

"Do you think we can do it in a year?"

"Of course we can! The internet can turn you into a different person in less than a week."

When Maria had climbed back up to the tree house to get James/ Iggy and wondering why the two of us weren't down yet, the two of us were in animated conversation on random things like should each letter of my mom's name be a different color and how we loved those awesome map carpets which was better and that there was this one kid at the school I used to go to who used toilet paper for pathways instead.

"James- I mean, Iggy." Maria said, catching herself violating the nickname rule, "we should go, it'll be dark in a short while."

James/ Iggy and I tapped knuckles, and when I was going to wave goodbye to them at the door, he turned back and shouted, "See you soon!"

It was clearly the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

A beautiful friendship with a 'but'.

* * *

_**Monique**_

After the very first meeting of The Odd Nicknames Club, everyone went on with their business: Maria and James hung out with each other and did "grown- up" stuff, Martin helped his mom with some final touches in interior decoration, and Nick was somewhere in the shadows, not wanting to expose himself too much to social activity. Me? I went on with practicing my "welcome to the Wilsons' smile". But for the moment, I chose to head out to the playground, which was abandoned because every other kid chose to spend their summer in larger playgrounds, their vacation houses, or the nearest pool.

While socializing requires extreme effort, it wasn't a thing for my parents to be too tired to be hospitable and outgoing. There weren't actually visitors at that time, though my parents were spending the time preparing help for some fundraisers. It wasn't that my parents were running out of time for me; it was exactly the opposite of that. Like I had said, I wasn't a very outgoing person. Proof: I still had to practice a "welcome to the Wilsons' smile", while my parents could do that naturally, even if there was no one to welcome. It was just that every time I would see my parents greet people with air- kisses or chat animatedly with someone, it made me feel not worthy. In a way, it made me hate myself for being shy, except that I didn't know what to do with it yet.

Hey, I was just a ten- year- old.

My not- as- deep- as- you- would- think train of thought was broken when I saw Maria approaching the swing set where I sat, waving a little. I smiled in reply, and she took that as an invitation to claim the swing beside me.

"Should I call you Nudge?" She asked, pushing herself back a little so she could swing.

"Yes, please. Should I call you Max?"

"Wouldn't want to break the oath." She replied, smiling. "What're you doing here?"

"I just wanted to take over the playground. You?"

"I just came from James'- I mean, Iggy's place. You looked like you were thinking of a bunch of deep stuff."

I shook my head. "Not really deep. Mainly about how come I'm really shy even if both my parents are outgoing."

"Well you didn't look so shy to me back up in the tree house."

"Even if I was that outgoing in real life, I would still be considered shy by Wilson standards. I think my parents are secretly disappointed in me."

Maria suddenly stopped swinging. "None of that bull. You are too young to think of stuff like that. And your parents are certainly not disappointed in you."

Even of Maria and I were pretty much complete strangers, and by the neighborhood standards the Wilsons were on a higher pedestal because of their popularity, she still spent the next fifteen minutes or so countering my negativity, saying stuff like "you'll grow out of it, you'll see" and "remember: your parents do not hate you". Even if my pessimism was taking over, it was like she knew just the right thing to say.

It sort of felt like I had a big sister. Being an only child can be pretty sad at times, but there were times that I thought about it when it might be a good thing, especially if I ended up having a very outgoing sibling and then always be compared.

When I told Maria I that I always wanted a big sister and asked her if she could be mine, her first reply was something along the lines of "I'm not girly". But one pair of Bambi eyes later (which at that time I was still working on to perfection, which meant she still had to consider for almost a minute), I had a big sister.

My big sister really was something.

* * *

_**James**_

"So what does your cousin have planned for tonight?" I asked Maria as she dashed down the stairs and shrugged on a jacket.

"I don't know, actually. His mom just told me to come over because the 'club' has a meeting." She replied, using one hand to make a quotation mark while attempting to brush her hair with another.

It was almost a week after the first meeting, although Maria and I made no attempt to use our given nicknames, except when I made fun of her for being given a boy's name. Also, we had to use them whenever we were around either Martin or Monique. Nick, of course, was pretty invisible though there were times when either of us saw him but made no attempt to interact with him.

"I wonder if Nick's going to come." She wondered out loud. "I mean, sure he went to the 'initiation', but I highly doubt he's going to make another appearance."

"Your aunt called our moms." I pointed out. "I highly doubt he just went there because he wanted to, so there'd be a lot of persuasion going on there."

"Good point," She replied as we headed outside. "But I really hope this is worth it. I'd rather be staying here and secretly finishing off our jar of Nutella."

When the tree house was in view, we could see that the light was on and that it was slightly more pimped out than before, with streamers casting silhouettes.

"Martin must have something new planned." Maria remarked as we made our way up.

We were the last ones to arrive, with Monique and Martin talking about something or other and Nick sitting quietly in the corner, not actually sullen but more like distracted.

"Hey Gazzy," Maria greeted her cousin. When I shot her a questioning look, she replied, "'The Gasman' is too long and you know I get lazy."

The five of us once again sat around the table. It had fifteen cups arranged in a circle, with a bottle lying down in the middle.

"We're going to play a game." Martin said eagerly. "You have to spin a bottle and then drink from the cup it points to."

"And, to make it more mysterious, we put food coloring." Nudge added. Then, she produced a small cardboard box, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "The first one to spin is… Fang."

Nick half- snapped out of his reverie, and without saying anything, spun the bottle. It landed on a cup with purple liquid in it. Without a second thought, he took a sip.

"What is it?" Martin asked.

Nick gulped, and a look of surprise crossed his face for a second. "It's water."

"Pick a name." Monique said, thrusting the cardboard box in his direction.

"Max."

Maria ended up with an orange- colored liquid. She took a huge gulp and instantly regretted it, based on the face she made. "It's lemon juice." She said, instantly putting the glass down and reaching for the cardboard box.

The game continued until all fifteen cups were drunk out of. Everyone got a mix of good and bad drinks, mine being hot chocolate (though by the time I had drunken out of it the hot chocolate wasn't so hot anymore), a mixture of water and salt, and a peanut butter and banana shake (and by "shake" it meant just those two blended together). And while I sort of felt bad for Max, I still had to laugh when she got a juiced broccoli.

The "party" finally ended, and since Monique was just next door, Maria, Nick and I ended up walking together to our respective houses.

"Hey, Maria, I have to go now. My Uncle Jocelyn just arrived and my mom wants me to 'entertain' them." I said, wiggling my eyebrows in a manner that made the person who I was talking to instantly get a dirty mind.

While Nick was confused at the words "Uncle Jocelyn", Maria instead rolled her eyes at my eyebrow- wiggling. "Can't you wait until I get home?"

"I already told her that. And she said no."

"Dang it. Hey Nick, where do you live anyway?" She asked.

"Right side of the playground." He replied, making reference to the main fork at our neighborhood, with the playground separating the two paths. I was at the left side, while Maria was also at the right.

"He could just walk with you." I pointed out.

"Well… fine." She said reluctantly giving up on the argument.

And then we separated ways, waving goodbye to each other as I walked home and left Maria with a tall, dark, stranger.

* * *

_**Nick**_

This is the part where I once again stress that I like being alone, in the sense that is not necessarily literal. So while I could still be alone even if I was walking with this random girl who knew me as much as I knew her (which is barely), the opportunity was wasted as I had to stop and wait for her as she waved goodbye to her friend. As much as I wanted to go on ahead, it's common sense that leaving a girl to walk home by herself late at night is not a very good idea.

"Where do you live, anyway?" Maria- or- Max- or- whatever- she- wanted- to- be- called asked.

"I live farther from you, I guess. My house is nearer to the end of the street."

"I see." She said with a nod. After a while, she added, "You look grumpy."

"I guess it's a natural skill?"

"Your mom's forcing you to join the club, isn't she?"

"While I'm not very interested in the club, I sort of realized that the name 'Fang' matches me in a way."

"You are, in a way, mysterious. But as I remember, I'm not seeing you as anywhere near cool and sexy."

"She never mentioned sexy."

Instead of explaining the additional adjective, she instead laughed and covered her mouth, as if it was still quiet enough to hide. When I shot her a questioning look, she said, "It's just that when you say 'sexy' your nose does this weird thing. Nothing embarrassing, though, I swear."

"What do you mean by 'weird thing'?"

"It's sort of funny to explain. You should try saying sexy while facing a mirror so you can find out."

"Not a good image." While talking to yourself in front of a mirror is still considered as an act of boosting confidence, saying one word over and over to yourself while in front of a mirror is too strange. Especially if the word is something like "sexy".

"How come I never see you out much, anyway?" She asked.

"A lot of stuff I like to do involves being in a building that isn't exactly a gymnasium."

"Like what?"

"There are lots."

"So you're not going to tell me?"

"I'm thinking about that."

"Do you plan on being mysterious for the rest of your life?"

"I'm not mysterious. People just see me as mysterious."

"Well do you still plan on telling me?"

"I told you I'll be thinking about it."

"Well, I already put my number on the list." She said, handing me my phone. I patted my pockets, and sure enough, it wasn't there. "It's a special skill," she added.

"Why are you even obsessed with what I do?"

"Because you are- I mean I see you as mysterious. Therefore, I want a mystery to solve. But that's mainly because I'm really, really bored."

I was about to reply when she stopped in front of a house, presumably hers. "This is me." She said. "See you around, and don't forget to actually tell me what it is that you do so much indoors."

Walking home was pretty much a muddle of questions, mainly why the hell a random stranger forced me to share my interests and hobbies with her for no reason except to possibly befriend me. Honestly, I wasn't even half- considering getting back to her on that topic.

And while I like being alone, I had to admit that sometimes the right company is a lot nicer.

* * *

**Yay, another chapter! I won't be updating as regularly here (maybe every two weeks), because I alternate it with another project I've got (yes, I'm a bad multitasker). So I'll see you (and you, and you, and you, and you) in two weeks.**

**=D**


	3. Interlude I

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own MR.**

* * *

_**The Time:**_ _A little over a year from their first meeting. Everyone has gotten used to their nicknames and even use it in everyday life, albeit they still are recipients of odd looks._

* * *

_**Nudge**_

Having Max as a sister, whether by blood or by request, was really, really, different. As in it's something. While it is a general stereotype for older sisters to be more popular and stylish and smarter and all that, Max really showed me what it was to be a big sister: underneath the clothes and popularity, real sisters help you no matter what. Real sisters would know what to do.

Unfortunately, everything has an exception. In this case, it was my little fashion emergency: what to wear on the first day of school.

"Nudge, the first day of school is weeks away. You don't have to panic about that now."

"_Two weeks_ actually. I don't want to stress out about it at the last minute."

"Nudge, you're _eleven_. But then again, I was nothing like you when I was your age."

"You say that like you're really, really old."

"Do you really believe I'll be able to help you with that?"

"I'm just going to try on different outfits. And tell me if you're going to fall for me if you were ever a boy."

"Chill, Nudge, this is just fifth grade. And why don't you ask Ig, or Gazzy, or Fang if you need a guy's opinion?"

"Because, Gazzy is way younger than me, and Ig and Fang are like my older brothers so asking them that is sort of weird and possibly gross."

And even if some of our fashion- related arguments lasted longer than that, in the end I would be grinning and Max would be using her you- so- owe- me face because she would agree to help me. Because that's what big sisters do.

* * *

_**Iggy**_

For an eight- year- old, I was pretty sure that The Gasman was just a handful of IQ points short of becoming a genius. Or a child prodigy. Something like that. Sure, he didn't spit out complex, hard- to- spell words like they were a part of everyone else's daily vocabulary, but he certainly knew enough stuff about chemistry that would make every other pyromaniac hang on to his very word.

As The Gasman would quote me, "The internet can turn you into a different person in less than a week."

"This is a good one." I said as we both stood back, then appraising our latest craft- one of the several experiments that would serve as a reference when we were both ready to create the greatest fireworks show yet for Gazzy's mom.

"But it's missing something…" he said, trailing off and looking at me like I could read his mind. And while I really couldn't, the look on his face had said it all.

"Something that ticks, perhaps?" I continued, convincingly raising an eyebrow for effect. "After all, it's not a bomb without the ticking."

"Where can we find one? My mom might get mad at me if I use one of her clocks."

I ruffled his hair in response. "Don't worry, Gazzy. I'll try and keep an eye out for one we can use."

And while having someone as innocent- looking and devious as The Gasman become your partner in crime was great, there were still some things you can't replace.

* * *

_**Fang**_

Even after a year of meeting a life changing person or two, I still preferred being alone. I was still that quiet guy sitting at the far corner and not giving a damn about what's going on around me. Yet, hanging out with the peculiar little club that unwittingly took me in was something I would look forward to at times. Or maybe, it was that one person in particular.

Max. I treated her like she was my best friend, and vice versa. She understood my concept of apathy when even the least bit appropriate, about being alone even while tagging along with a crowd. Also, she was right when she said my nose does this weird thing when I say the word "sexy".

Where had she been all this time?

No, I wasn't in love with her. Even if puberty was slowly doing its job (albeit the changes were so subtle that if you pointed it out to Max she would deny it), and it was the same thing with me and my hormones (though it wasn't exactly what you would call "good"), Max was pretty much my sister.

The whole year we hung out together, I ended up saying a lot of things. I ended up taking her to a lot of places. I even ended up unintentionally making her laugh several times (case in point: me saying "sexy"). We hung out together so many times that my mom would be shocked if she wasn't coming over or if I wasn't going to her place.

Still, her showing up at my doorstep meant she left someone else's. And it would be my fault.

* * *

**While the incredible shortness of this chapter is sort of different, that was the reason why the title is "Interlude": it's meant to be short, basically a filler to introduce what's supposed to happen next. And this isn't going to be the last one, either. Also, I made interludes so that my story wouldn't have to be so long and boring.**

**(It was actually hard to write something this short. I usually force myself to reach 3K in one chapter, so I had a lot of trouble with this one.)**

**See you :)**


	4. The End of the Beginning: Part 1

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own MR.**

* * *

_**Max**_

One thing I always hated was dinnertime. That was because all the stories we had to tell each other about our day were usually squeezed out on afternoon snacks, so it was mostly awkward silence and scraping of utensils against plates. My mom also liked to serve her weird experimental food, or even the food that was just plain boring, which I mostly hated (one can never be too immature to like broccoli).

The worst part about those dinners, though? My mom always chose to break news over the meal. But unlike those dramas, where the character starts by saying something vague first and then explaining it later, my mother goes through details in a chronological order. Introduction before conclusion, and all that shebang.

It really wasn't that vague when she said, "The CSM board offered me a promotion."

Yes, that was good news, but that didn't really fool anyone. If she was really excited about it, then she would've told me as soon as she got home. But it was already dinnertime, so there was obviously a catch.

"But the only way for me to accept that promotion is to get a transfer." She added after what seemed like a whole minute.

My mother worked for a non-government organization called Coalition to Stop the Madness, which focused on all sorts of areas, whether environmental, social, or humane. And while she only had to pay for the two of us, it was still only enough for our regular bills, and a small splurge every once in a while. I knew she really wanted to take the offer, but there were still some things that ruled in her decision: the choice of leaving the place she grew up and raised me in, and my say in the decision, too.

"So, where are we going to next?"

She swallowed, even though the food was nowhere near her mouth. That meant this was really, really, really big news. "South Africa."

My mom wanted me to go with her to South Africa. While I have nothing against South Africa, my shock was more focused on the fact that I had to move to another continent. Yes, it would mean new adventures, but it also meant leaving my old adventures, the ones that were too fun to end. Not to mention, The Odd Nicknames Club. As much as I hated to admit it, I had grown attached to our little group, with our ridiculous little parties in the tree house and the (mostly) harmless pranks we pulled, among other things.

Moving to another town? Suck- ish, but a bit tolerable.

Moving to another state? It's a lot farther, but it'll do.

Moving across the country? Travel's still easy.

Moving to another country? If it was somewhere near like Canada or Mexico, then maybe I wouldn't mind.

But moving across the ocean to another continent? It's something else entirely.

Although my mom was not oblivious to my reaction, she went on like it was no big deal. "CSM's continental headquarters is there, and they want me to be in charge of it."

"That's pretty big." I said, taking a bite of my food like it was also no big deal to me.

"Don't worry Max." She said, as if she could read my mind. Which she probably could. "I'm still trying to fix things. I'm planning to ask Lisa if she can take you in while I'm gone."

That last part had gotten my attention. "Really?" I asked, looking up. Getting to stay was a pretty tempting offer, but that would mean that I wouldn't be with my mom. I love her a lot more than I love the club, and I love the club a lot. "But I could go with you if I wanted to, right?"

She smiled, happy that I was considering leaving everything behind just to be with her. "Of course you could. And you don't have to decide right away, either."

It seemed like a pretty easy decision, but of course, not everything is as it seems. And even if I had decided to put it off for a while, it would've just come back taunting me sooner or later. If it was a snap decision, like if I had until the next day to decide, maybe it would've been easier. Unfortunately, I had all the time in the world.

I put down my fork. "Can I go outside for a bit?" I asked, pushing my chair away from the table.

"Don't be too late." She called out as I headed toward the door.

* * *

At that moment, the only person that seemed suitable to call was Fang. Sure, Iggy actually won by several years and better knowledge about me and my random factoids, but somehow it felt like Fang knew better on what words to tell me.

Maybe I should've called Iggy at that time, because like I mentioned, he fell deeper in the best friend category by standard definition. But then, it's one thing to know that person very well. It's another to understand the person very well even though you've only known each other for about a year.

All the assumptions aside, I actually called him way after dinner. When I asked to be excused during dinnertime, I only sat on the swing at our front porch, my chin tucked into my knees. I was hoping that I could make the decision last minute, because I didn't want to immediately choose and then stall around it for days or weeks, only to suddenly keep changing my mind over and over again so much that it made even my mom mad.

When it was really dark and I was pretty sure my mother was asleep, I called Fang, who- to my shock- gamely agreed, then snuck out in my pajamas and ran all the way to the playground at the fork in the road, our agreed meeting place. Thankfully many streetlamps illuminated it, enabling me to see the teenage boy sitting at the swings, not swinging.

"You got here fast." I said, eyeing his chosen nightwear. Our conversation on the phone wasn't really that long, just me asking if we could meet, and him asking for the time and place, the call ending with him saying that he'd be there. I didn't really expect him to arrive a lot earlier than I did.

He blinked and pinched the bridge of his nose before motioning for me to sit in the swing beside his. "I've been here for a while. I couldn't sleep."

"Not the first time, huh?"

"Not the first time."

"And here I was thinking you told me everything I should know about you."

"Too many to mention." He said, and then turned to look at me, like he was trying to stare into my soul and read my thoughts. "So what's up?"

"I need to make a decision. And I'm bad at decisions."

"Can't really say. You were the one who decided to start a conversation with me about a year ago and look where that got us."

"Well, I'm bad at big decisions."

"There aren't any big decisions, only a string of small ones."

"No, Fang, this is really big." I said, and then started explaining my mother's promotion and my decision whether to move out of the continent or not.

He shook his head. "It's made up of small decisions, Max. Small questions that make up the whole picture."

"But that would mean that there would be a lot of deciding to make."

"Well, you could always go straightforward."

"And crash headfirst into a wall?"

"That's for you to decide."

"And that is exactly my problem."

"Not really, your problem isn't _what_ but _how_ to decide."

"I never knew you could turn into such a wiseass during full moons." I said, looking up at the night sky where the moon- which was indeed full- sat. "What are you, a special kind of werewolf or something?"

"Very funny."

"Seriously, though, I need something, anything, to help me get things over with."

"What happens if you go?"

"Well for starters, I'll be leaving you guys and then I'll have to start all over again and undergo culture shock where I may or may not be known at my new school as 'The American'."

"Is your mother's promotion a lifetime commitment?"

"Neither of us knows, actually."

"How about if you stay?"

"If I stay, then that would mean I'd leave my mom behind. My mom is the only real family I've got left, but you guys are like my extended family." I explained. "Maybe except for The Gasman, since he's really part of my actual extended family. Anyway, you get the point."

He nodded slowly. "I know how you can decide."

"How?"

He pulled out an old quarter, turning it for the light to reflect from whatever shiny surface it had left. "A coin toss, of course."

"So we're leaving it all to chance?"

"No, the plan is that in the small infinity it stays airborne, you'll be secretly hoping for a specific side."

Fang flipped the coin, and in that small infinity that it flew up only to be reclaimed by gravity, I made my final decision.

* * *

_**Iggy**_

You'd think that after a year of Max unintentionally forgetting about me that I'd get used to hearing things either secondhand, or firsthand albeit it's too late. But then again, Max never left me out of something huge in her life.

Really, what I had expected was nowhere near that. It was on that fateful morning that my mother made me return Dr. Martinez's bowls that she had borrowed. The thing with grown- ups is that they have a tendency to assume a lot, which meant my mother still thought Max and I were still best friends. Why I didn't tell her about it, I wasn't exactly sure. The most probable reason was that she would give me an hour long lecture about the importance of friendship over the years. That should've been for Max.

When I arrived at the old, personally gardened, two- storey building that I once called my second home, that was when I realized that for the past year, Max and I had avoided each other. Somehow I knew that she wasn't the only one to blame, that she wasn't the only one who played a game of hide and seek the past year. This used to be the house where I could stroll in freely half naked- albeit I would be given stern lectures my Dr. Martinez, and later on, by my mom- but now I was reluctant even to just ring the doorbell.

"Iggy, I thought you were with Max." Dr. Martinez said as she ushered me in.

"I was, a while ago." I lied. Knowing Max, she wouldn't tell her mom, too. "But she went over to Nudge's right after."

Dr. M took the bowls for me. "Oh. She's probably trying to spend time with everyone right before the big move."

"The big move?" I asked, even though it would risk both our covers. But that was ignored for a while as I thought, _Max is not telling me something. Again. Why am I still surprised?_ Startled as she was about my cluelessness, Dr. M still filled in the details about how she got a promotion at CSM and had to move to South Africa. And while Max had already decided that she was going to come with her, the option to stay with The Gasman was still open.

"Oh, you mean _that _big move." I said. "Well, I better get going, thanks Dr. M."

Knowing Max (and by that I mean _knowing Max more than Fang does_), I went to the only place I knew she could do full- on hardcore contemplation: DEFCON 0. DEFCON 0 was this old abandoned parking lot with a huge tree at the farthest corner. It should've been renovated long ago, but the tree was just so stubborn. _Just like you_, I would tell Max.

And I was right. She was sitting on a makeshift swing cut out from a large tire, but not swinging. When she looked up and saw me, she had this almost sad smile on her face, like she knew exactly what I was thinking (she most probably did): _I found you, game's over._

"I heard you're moving across the Atlantic Ocean." I said, taking my usual place, which was at this patch of intertwined roots that fitted just right.

"And I heard you're getting better at geography." She joked halfheartedly, the look on her face that of a child's who had been caught reaching towards the cookie jar.

"Max."

"Well I'm sorry that I was trying to avoid the despicable situation of me moving to another country."

"And I'm sorry that I was just being upset over the fact that I heard from your mom first, who thought that you already told me. Let me guess: you told Fang."

"I did."

There was a long silence right after, which meant that we were unknowingly arguing with each other telepathically. Other best friends fight by pulling hair, punching, breaking glass, and having shouting matches. Max and I? We look at each other for a long time, trying to read each others minds and maybe even hypnotizing the other to think it was their fault.

And in that long silence, there was this unspoken agreement that our friendship (or at least best- friend- ship as she would put it) was over for the time being.

"I guess I'll be going." I said, standing up and making my way out of the abandoned lot.

"Iggy?" She asked. As I turned back to face her, she added, "are we going to keep in touch?"

"I don't know, but maybe it would be best to tell me first."

* * *

_**Fang**_

I was right about the coin toss: at the moment that the coin landed on the back of my hand, I covered it just in time for her to blurt out, "I want to go."

Was that her final decision? She wasn't entirely sure either, but so far she hadn't been changing her mind. The weird thing was, she started needing space right after she told her mom of her decision. Dr. Martinez, knowing Max well, was sure that there was still a chance that it wasn't going to be her final decision so she still offered the proposition to stay with The Gasman and his mom. But she didn't talk much to anyone after that, not me, not even Iggy.

But then again, Max wasn't exactly nearer to normalcy than everyone thought. One time she told me that she hated getting attached to people or to things. Yes, she did love having Iggy as a best friend, but she still hated how much of a best friend she was to him. Yes, she did also thought it was awesome to have me as a friend, but she still hated getting attached. To make things seem lighter, Max had added, "Getting attached to you guys will be the death of me during a zombie apocalypse."

Even with the whole year of hanging out with Max, I still didn't know every little corner of her. Like her DEFCON spots, for instance. Even though she did mention that she had those kinds of sanctuaries, she never really told me where. But I was willing to bet that she was there when she wasn't with anyone of us, trying to stop herself from getting attached to us even more especially since she was leaving. I knew that it wasn't any of my business to come looking for her, or to even try. So it was pretty weird when one day she was the one who was looking for me.

While I did say that Max was trying to distance herself, she still hung out with us every now and then, but it was mostly a quick chat every other day. As much as she was trying not to get that much attached, there were still some things that she couldn't resist. Although, I couldn't say that was an explanation of why in the middle of one night she came looking for me on the park swings.

"Oh, good, you're here." Max said, breathing a sigh of relief and sitting down on the swing next to me. Like the last time we had gone there, we were both clad in pajamas, except that this time we had gone there for very different purposes.

"Still couldn't sleep." I replied. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Max started to pour out everything that had happened that afternoon. The way Iggy sat down in his usual spot when he was going to comfort her, to the unfamiliar stares he had given her just as he was about to leave. Even if she didn't have tears in her eyes, it was pretty obvious that that was one of the saddest things that had ever happened to her.

I remembered when Max told me about her mom's promotion, of how she was having trouble deciding. Right after she had stopped and looked at me for some "wisdom", I was thinking of asking what Iggy thought about it, but then I stopped thinking that it was too personal. In the end, I didn't even know that Iggy didn't have a say in it until much later, when the two of them were supposedly "over".

"I guess that means we're not best friends anymore. Or maybe even friends for that matter." Max finished.

The only probably- non- offensive response I could come up with was, "Well… I don't know what to say."

"It's all my fault, I've been to careless." She said letting out a grunt and hitting her head repeatedly on the steel frame of the swing.

"Max, stop that." I said, pulling hear head away from the frame. "Maybe it's your fault or maybe it's not, but that's a weird way of considering yourself the guilty party."

She rubbed her forehead. "Thanks. But I guess I need time to rethink my life decisions, right? I mean, my choice to hang out with you wasn't necessarily bad but the aftermath with Iggy was. What if all my life decisions have been like that, especially the one with the move to South Africa?"

"You need time alone?"

"Lots of time, maybe even extending past the big move." She said. In a way, she was passing on to me what Iggy had done. So yes, that meant that we were probably not going to talk each other in a long time.

Max and Iggy had been wrong about me trying to compete with him. Iggy might have been a ghost for the past year, but you can't compete with a ghost.

* * *

**Hope that didn't disappoint you. See you guys in two weeks :)).**


	5. The End of the Beginning: Part 2

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own MR.**

* * *

_**Nudge**_

Max moving to South Africa was definitely not the end of the world. Or at least that was what I was hoping.

When Max first told me about the big move, I sort of had to catch my breath because I had really grown attached to the idea of Max as my big sister. She was able to calm me down by telling me that it's no big deal, that she swore that she would come back, and that she was still my big sister (even if I was practically twelve at that time, there was still the sentimentality that wouldn't let me give that title up even if I was on the verge of being a teenager). She told me to just think that she was just going away to college or something, or maybe boarding school.

Also, because my parents are naturally neighborly and full of camaraderie, my parents suggested that Dr. M hold a small gathering before she had scheduled for all the furniture to be moved and all the boxes packed up. Of course, they offered help since it was their idea, anyway (and that meant dragging me hours before the party to do manual labor with Max). And that was how I found myself with The Odd Nicknames Club and probably half the neighborhood hanging out at the ground floor of the Martinezs' place.

"Hey, why are you hanging out by yourself again?" Max asked, walking over to where I sat at the corner of the living room. Being my "sister" and pretty much my best friend, Max knew how I felt with my parents being social butterflies and me being awkward and all that.

"I'm not exactly in the mood to go around and shake people's hands." I replied, which was something my parents actually did earlier in the party, as if the people didn't know them already. "The guys are in their own world, and there's not way I'm going over to hang out with Stephanie Potter and her entourage." I said, motioning to a group of girls my age who were busy doing each other's hair and gossiping in hushed tones.

"And why's that?" She asked, also knowing that I had a tendency to act like my parents as soon as they were around so that they would know that I was really their daughter and not switched at birth.

"Because I hate them as much as they hate me." I said, just as Stephanie and her friends glanced at me and rolled their eyes.

"Well, I'm not going to ask what it is with those girls. Seems pretty obvious, I'd say." Max replied, and I thought back to a few months ago, during Valentines' Day, when a bunch of guys put this fake valentine in my locker (and several other girls'). My frown was practically permanent when Max and I had met up, and when she asked me what was wrong, I ended up bawling my eyes out. In the end, Max helped me get pay back by secretly giving them chocolates with a lot of hot sauce in it.

Max and I glanced at each other, and she knew that I knew that we were thinking about the same incident. While Max generally had no idea about the actual demureness of Stephanie Potter and her friends, she knew me enough that she trusted me to make good judgment on whether or not she deserved to be pranked, Maximum Martinez style.

"What do you say we pull one last prank together, Max Martinez style?" She asked with a smile.

I grinned and nodded yes. She leaned into my ear and told me a plan that was way more genius than the chocolate with hot sauce.

* * *

Max's plan, of course, ended up being so devious and genius that it ended with Stephanie Potter having to receive first aid. And as genius and devious as it was, we ended up being caught.

My parents, knowing that ruining the party twice would be even more of an abomination, chose to prepare their sermons for later when the guests left. And when they did, Max and I were ordered to sit at the dining room table while my parents and Dr. M conferred about the severity of the situation.

"I'm going to take all of it, okay?" Max told me. "Besides, I'm moving anyway and my mom can handle my prankster side more than your parents can."

While it was way off the situation, somehow, Max saying that she was moving away made it even more real than I wanted. Although there wasn't any sudden emotional change or eye- watering, it just made me feel even more frustrated about what had happened. But then again, moving wouldn't stop Max from getting revenge on my behalf.

By the time the adults had gone back to the dining room, Max and I already had our stories prepared to every little detail. "Come on Monique," my mother said, which meant she was really serious because she would usually call me by my nickname "we're going home."

Max mouthed a "good luck" in my direction as we got out of their house. The short trip back to our place was silent, which scared me even more because it was usually the time when either one of them dropped a comment about the party they had gone to. My dad told me to go to my room, probably until they decide on how long they wanted to ground me. And after what felt like forever, my mother opened the door and both of them came in.

"Monique, honey, we've talked about what happened." My dad started, and I was really beginning to feel scared of why they were not calling me by my nickname. "It was not an easy decision." He went on, as if picking what other chores I should do beside my regular ones was really hard.

"We're gonna go straightforward with things, Monique." My mother followed. "We're sending you to boarding school."

If I was drinking water, that moment would've been the part where I suddenly spit it out and maybe even intentionally have it land on their faces.

"Monique, we've noticed that you've turned into a whole different person when you started hanging out with your little club." Well yes, I'm different, mother. You might not have noticed that I've been happier about myself, because I always pretend to be happy around the two of you for both your sakes.

"We think the club is a bad influence to you. We're not sure that you'll be allowed to meet them anymore."

Okay, I'm not going to lie. For the past year of the club's existence we did some pretty weird and crazy things, which included but was not limited to pranks. Of course, some were harmless, while the others were just too genius that we couldn't help but laugh at the victims and high- five each other. But it was all in pure fun, and none of us had life long aspirations to be juvenile delinquents or something. We we're just kids.

After that certain sentence, I decided to tune out of their little speech. I didn't care about how- according to my parents- I would apparently realize much later that they were both right with the club being bad influences, or how I would come to enjoy boarding school, especially because it would be an all- girls one. At that moment, all that mattered was how they were making me miserable by making me break off ties with the people I loved almost as much as I loved my real family.

* * *

_**The Gasman**_

The news with Aunt Val's transfer and Max's plan to tag along had been a pretty huge issue to The Odd Nicknames Club, even if we hadn't really gathered to discuss that certain conflict. Max was pretty much everyone's older sister- slash- role model. She used to tell me that she was really reluctant at first with the club, since she was trying to be this mature person that didn't have club meetings at a tree house in someone's backyard. But more than a year later, she was everyone's best friend in the club, including me.

Iggy, though, it was a different story. Since I was just eight and I wasn't exactly exposed yet to the threats of other people to a perfectly good friendship (we were eight; no one was fighting about girls yet), I wasn't really aware of that part, until he told me much later. So that's a story I'll be telling much later, too. The point is, Max's news affected everyone, even Iggy, though it was in a different way.

During the Martinez's party (the very one where Nudge and Max pulled a prank so devious and genius that it was a shame they got caught), Aunt Val had told me that she was trying to pull some strings to get Max to stay, because she knew how important the places and the people were to her. But of course, there are some things worth ignoring especially when the person made a decision you always wanted her to.

That afternoon, my mom got stuck on an errand and asked for Aunt Val to pick me up, since she knew that Aunt Val sometimes fetched Max from school. And on the way to our house, she said that now might be a good time to talk to my mom about Max staying with us, which was part of the strings she was pulling.

What my mom didn't tell me or Aunt Val was that the errand she was stuck on was my father.

The main reason we moved out was because of him. Since I was only seven at that time, my mom chose to tell me that we were "going on a long vacation" and that we'd be staying near the Martinez's though it wouldn't be for long, and that yes, I would see my sister soon because she just wanted to stay with my dad for a little bit.

Aunt Val had only gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and I only tagged along so I could get some orange juice for me and Max. Instead, she got to see my mom and my dad staring at each other from across the small table at the kitchen, both nursing their own cups of coffee. Apparently the eyes were enough for her to tell that they were both considering the opportunity of getting back together. She interrupted the staring game, which my dad took as a warning so he got out and joined me at the hallway.

"Hey kiddo," he told me.

"Hi, dad,"

"How's your vacation so far?"

"I like it, but I want to go home now."

"I also want to go home. I think mommy wants to go home, too."

We could both hear a conversation starting, and knowing what was about to happen next, my father asked me to walk with him to the car.

"I'll be going out for a while, but I'll be back. And then we'll go home. Okay?"

I nodded, and waved a goodbye at him as he drove off. When I got back to the house, Max was sitting quietly on the couch, eyes wide, neck craning to where the kitchen was. And then I realized why: loud voices were coming from that direction. My mom and Aunt Val were fighting.

"Do you want to go to the tree house?" She asked. I nodded, and as an unspoken agreement, we went through the front door instead. But even when we were already several feet off the ground, we could still hear their voices screeching at each other.

"You told me the divorce was final!"

"That was because I wasn't expecting him to actually grovel on his knees and promise me something great."

"And you accepted? What you're doing is stupid!"

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Do you want to keep hurting your son?"

"Why can't you just trust me?"

"Because you're acting like a selfish bitch that can't think properly!" Aunt Val finished off, which gave way to silence.

Max and I looked at each other. It was pretty clear that Max wasn't going to be staying here.

* * *

_**Third Person POV**_

At midnight, a silhouette could be seen climbing out of a window from the second storey of the Martinez's house. The silhouette climbed down until she became a shadow in the moonlight, and the shadow ran all the way to what she hoped still remained the rendezvous point.

Max was not naïve, as far as she remembered. But she knew that the others knew that The Gasman and Nudge knew nothing about what had happened between her and Iggy, and she hoped that they would try and keep face to not upset anyone else further.

She reached the small playground at the intersection, and was just in time to see Iggy almost disappear further from the playground. She had expected that, but was still frustrated that Iggy didn't care that much anymore. As she got nearer to Iggy, she noticed that Fang was with him. The two of them walked silently, not bothering to look at the other. It somehow made her feel like that they were really the best friends and that she was just the girl they were fighting over. Who knew?

Several blocks over, right across the place with the big tree house, a smaller silhouette climbed out of her own window, though with not as much skill as Max albeit it was done expertly. Normally Nudge would have never done such thing under any circumstances, but this situation called for different measures. Besides, Max taught her well and she might as well practice if she planned to escape from boarding school. She stalled at The Gasman's front yard and waited for the others to come.

By the time the all four had arrived and managed to sneak into The Gasman's front yard, a small blonde boy was already sitting at the base of the large tree in his backyard, a penlight in hand. It took very little time for them to open the tree house and to block its windows. Everyone sat down, and The Gasman took his place at the head, oblivious to the way Max, Iggy, and Fang were avoiding each others eyes and the way Nudge picked at her nails nervously.

"So, this is probably the last meeting of The Odd Nicknames Club, given what has happened lately. Any news for us?"

When no one spoke up, The Gasman cleared his throat again. "I'm going back to California where I used to live, because my dad wants us back and my mom wants us to be back. Unfortunately, my mom decided to sell the house, including this club house. So this might be the last time we'll ever be in here."

"I'm leaving too, I guess." Nudge spoke up. "My parents decided that it would be a good idea for me to apply to boarding school, so I did. And I'll be going there maybe until I graduate or something."

Max went next, seeing as Iggy nor Fang was not making any move to do anything. "All of you know by now that I'll be moving to South Africa." She said. "I hope it's temporary, like mom said, because I'll really be missing you guys."

No one was really looking at each other as the room fell silent. The Gasman rested his chin on his hands; Nudge drew circles on the wooden table top; Max stared at her hand on the small table; Iggy was leaning against the wall and staring intently at a corner; and Fang had his eyes fixed on no particular point.

"I'm moving to Virginia," Fang said after a short while. Everyone looked up at the unexpected news, including Iggy. Fang had never mentioned anything about moving or about Virginia, not even to Max. Still, Fang continued staring straight ahead as if it didn't really matter.

"How about you, Ig?" The Gasman asked, noticing that Iggy hadn't said anything yet.

"I'm not sure," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I think my parents are considering moving, but it isn't final yet."

The others nodded, and the awkward silence was back again, the type of silence where no one could bother to disturb it, like they wanted it instead.

"We might be apart from each other, but we'll still keep in touch, right?" The Gasman asked.

"Right." The others said, but they knew it wasn't exactly a promise. It was just a response that might not have meant anything.

* * *

**So this is a bit overdue =D Unfortunately, I have classes again, so there are chances that some updates will be random. I hope you guys enjoy your summer.**

**See you in an indefinite amount of time :))**


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